


This Time It Will

by naegiriko



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Crying, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Not Devilman, Redemption, Second Chances, god they love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naegiriko/pseuds/naegiriko
Summary: --Please read tinygaymoonfae's "I Have a Strange Feeling This Isn't Our First Time Around: Or, How Satan Got a Soul" before this, it's my version of what happened in their AU--Ryo has a soul now, and is fully committed to being with Akira. They meet before everything has happened, and Ryo is determined to show Akira how much he loves him.





	This Time It Will

**Author's Note:**

> like I said, PLEASE read tinygaymoonfae's fic it's so good it made me cry AND you kinda need it to understand what's happened. otherwise it's just gooey fluffy smut.
> 
> also, title taken from a Jeff Hanson song that's worth a listen.

Ryo finds him immediately, sitting on the edge of the dock with his legs hanging in the sun colored water below, orange and pink light hitting his white uniform shirt. 

“Ryo! What a surprise, I haven’t seen you in forever! I thought you were in the States!” Akira’s smile is wide and immediate; forgiving without even knowing what’s happened.

Ryo can already feel something welling up in his heart, something he’s just beginning to understand. He clutches Akira tightly, hands wound in the front of his shirt. 

“I’m so glad to see you, Akira, you don’t even know what I’ve been through--”

“It’s okay, Ryo, it’s alright, what’s happened? You’re scaring me. Why don’t we go to the apartment? You can tell me there.”

As soon as they open the door, Ryo’s hands are gripping Akira’s shoulders tightly.

“Akira, never change. Tell me right now that you’ll never change.” 

“I won’t. I’ll be right here, Ryo, I’ll always be your best friend, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Ryo’s new heart soars at his words, but at the same time it twists up and folds together in a painful squeeze. _Be whatever you want me to be_ , it echoes in his mind, and Ryo realizes that Akira has loved him forever, always waiting and helping and protecting, and suddenly the image of Akira at the Sabbath seizes him again. Akira, as Ryo’s tool, his plaything. 

To ease the scalding heat of the memory Ryo’s arms naturally wrap around Akira’s waist, relishing in its slightness, heart fluttering at the thin layer of soft fat there. He prefers it to the lanes of hard muscle of Amon’s body fused with Akira.

Because now he can be his own person, choose his own destiny, which they both know is a future with Ryo. On some level, they’ve always known. Looking up at the stars together, bathing in a tub of bubbles, laying next to each other on patterned sleeping bags, soothing nightmares and trying to make dreams come true by clasping their hands together tightly in the night. Even without a soul, the memories of Akira’s gentle, wordless love stirred within him.

“I don’t want you to be anything but yourself, do you understand?” Ryo’s hands shake at his shoulders.

“Of course, of course,” Akira giggles at Ryo’s graveness and crushes him again with a hug. It flattens Ryo onto the futon and leaves him breathless, unsure if it’s from the movement or the overwhelming love he feels.

Akira grins above him, his curly locks hanging down in a shaggy crown.

“I’m so happy,” he murmurs with eyes half lidded,  
“I’m so happy that you love me.” 

Ryo knows from the nearly imperceptible shake of his body and the cadence of his voice that he’s about to cry. 

Ryo lets him cry, lets fat tears drop onto the marble coolness of his skin, now radiating with the heat of love.

“It’s okay, Akira, it’s alright, I’m right here and I’m never letting go--”

“I’m not sad, Ryo, I’m happy, I’m feeling strange and beautiful, like something happened that I don’t know about--maybe I don’t want to--I just want you and only you.”

Akira shouts, emotions bubbling up inside him, it’s roar and a growl of humanity that makes Ryo ache deep in his chest.

Ryo doesn’t even have to say _you have me_ before Akira has closed the distance between them, he kisses him fiercely like he’s meaning to take his breath away. 

It’s sloppy and wet from inexperience and Akira’s tears, and now Ryo’s are threatening to join the mix. 

Even in his human body, Akira is still relentless. He kisses Ryo fearlessly, not giving him a chance to breathe. When Ryo finally catches a breath, Akira buries his face in the gentle curve of Ryo’s shoulder and kisses there, kisses so deep and wet they turn into bites, and God, Ryo’s so glad he doesn’t have Amon’s demon teeth because now it’s just the right pressure, just enough to tell Ryo _you’re mine_ without anger or malice.

“Akira, I love you.” Ryo shuts his eyes tight and revels in the feeling of Akira’s lean body against his. “Let me feel more of you,” he asks, and when Ryo tugs on the hem of his shirt Akira obliges with the obedience of a dog.

“No fair,” Akira teases with his tongue out. “Ryo-chan, you can’t deny me of this.” 

It’s less suave than expected, because Akira unbuttons every button with love and care, nimble fingers separating the little discs from coarse Italian fabric. It takes even longer because Ryo kisses him deeply every button he undoes.

Akira laughs with excitement at the reveal of Ryo’s skin, its hard planes and the gentle slope of his hips, the pinkness of the flush that spreads down his shoulders.

They kiss again, light pouring through their bodies like sugar water, each connect of their lips like an angel setting foot on Earth.

“Akira,” Ryo sighs, and for a moment there is a rush of blissful forgetfulness. There is only the blinding light of love behind blue eyes and the slick of sweat between two bodies.

Ryo takes advantage of the lull in Akira’s kisses to lay him down on the cradle of blankets and truly appreciate him, the hair on his head splayed out like a halo even better than the one Ryo had, the tawny color of his skin, freckled in the corners, the incredible stride of his long legs.

Akira is not nervous about being stared at; he basks in Ryo’s stare like a cat laying in the sun. Every bend and curve of his body is inviting, like a photo of his girl that a man takes to war, or an actor dancing behind a silk screen. 

Akira’s body expresses his mind, which begs _Please, touch me!_ He is bright-eyed, as if he refuses to blink for even a second because Ryo would not be there. His hips slope elegantly into a shallow vee, the front of his white running shorts lifted high, toes curling tightly.

Ryo takes his time with him, not so as to tease, but to appreciate, to grasp everything he missed the first time around, to let the roots of Akira’s humanity grow over him, _teach me how to love_ , Ryo wants to say, but he is smart enough to know that there is no rule book for intangible human affairs and that no one, not even God, could teach Ryo how to love Akira because he already does.

Ryo’s long fingers trace Akira in tandem with his lips, as his fingers run along Akira’s chest his lips are kissing the softest part of skin at the end of his jaw. Akira is laughing and squirming, he is the sun, and Ryo is the moon, who waits and follows. 

Akira wraps his arms around Ryo’s neck as his kisses glide farther down his soft belly, and the noises he is making sound less like giggles now. They are the noises Akira makes when he dreams or when he is done crying, open-mouthed sighs and huffs coupled with the arch of his back.

They are both hard, but there is no rush, no urgency. There might have been if they had done this before, there could have been fervor and carnality. Ryo would’ve wanted it then, to hurt him in the best ways, with scratches and spanks, but this is the good Akira--the real one--and he is precious and perfect and true, and Ryo needs to show him.

“I love you so much,” Ryo murmurs through kisses on his thighs.

“I love you too, I always have.” Akira manages. “And I love this, I love how you touch me.”

Akira’s conformation of his enjoyment is everything Ryo’s ever wanted, just to please him and know he’s doing a good job at it. 

“Tell me why,” Ryo says. “Tell me why you love it.”

“I love it because your hands are so soft, and the way you smell, the way I can feel your eyelashes when you kiss my neck, I love the way you hold me in place to kiss me, the way you talk like you've just woken up from a good dream--but Ryo, I need--I need more, I need to feel you as much as I can, I trust you to make me feel good, Ryo--” his hips stutter and cant up into him, begging for contact.

“I will, Akira, I’m going to make you feel so good, just wait…”

Akira’s face has a sheen like light on an oil painting as Ryo’s naked hips meet his. His lips part slowly in growing wonder, whines matching the cadence of Ryo’s movements.

Ryo wants to take it all in, he almost leaves his body to observe it, but the warm thrum in his stomach and the pressure of Akira keeps him grounded. 

Akira is wordless and his eyes are shut as Ryo continues to rut against him. His pink lips are graced so slightly with a smile, his soft skin delighted by sweat flattened curls of dark hair.

“You feel so good, Akira, so good and so warm,” Ryo manages with his slick hand around both of them. 

A familiar tension with the delicious promise of release rises up inside Ryo. He kisses Akira delicately, barely opening his mouth, instead savoring the chasteness and love in his kisses.

_This is real_ , Ryo thinks, _this is real and everything’s alright._

Ryo feels Akira twitch in his hand, and Akira’s hands wander all over Ryo’s body as he comes, hot jets of semen coating the junction of their hips. 

“I love you, Ryo! Ah--!”

Ryo revels in the feeling of each pulse and spurt of fluid, each accompanied by a cry from his love beneath him.

“Akira, Akira, me too--” Ryo is silent as he comes, spurred on by the added wetness between their legs. His eyes are shut tight as ropes of come paint Akira’s tan chest, a tiny bit reaching his chin.

Their kisses continue. Kisses on Akira’s sated face and flushed cheeks, kisses on the soft skin of Ryo’s thighs, kisses on each of Akira’s fingers, kisses on the golden crown of Ryo’s head. 

It is an afternoon of whispers, promises, and sun. 

And as he breathes in tandem with the beats of Akira’s pure heart, Ryo thinks, _I’ll get it right this time, Akira. I promise. For us._

**Author's Note:**

> hope this heals ur heart a little after the final episode<3


End file.
